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Honouring pachamama is so important in Argentina’s north-west that even Catholic priests have adopted the pagan ritual. Every August 1, the heads of the region’s chalk-white pueblo churches make holes in the ground to fill with offerings – coca leaves, water, cigarettes – as a way of giving back to Mother Earth. A bottle of wine is buried, only to be dug up and shared the next year. If it’s good, everyone celebrates; if it’s vinegary, there is no way of sending the bottle back.

Such traditions are typical of the country’s north west, which is known for its Andean, pre-Colombian culture, spectacular multi-coloured valleys and gaucho cattle-herders, who sing proudly of the sun, moon and stars.

Andres, a horse-breeder turned tour guide, provided me with the finest introduction to his homeland by taking me on one of the world’s best drives – south along Route 68, from the colonial city of Salta to the wine lands of Cafayate, a transcendental journey through a blaze of red and pink gorges.

The Conchas valley, Andres told me (in between languid sucks on the knot of coca leaves in his cheek), used to be under the sea at one time and you can find seashells and fossils here now. The vivid horizontal stripes and folds pointed to different ages of the earth and its compounds– copper, iron, lime, clay. A tight crack in the rock face further up the road turned out to be the entrance to an enormous natural amphitheatre, ripped out by a glacier and once thought to be a gateway to another world.

The Incas shared in the belief that the Andes and its foothills were sacred

As we entered the tall chamber, tipping our heads back in wonder, a coach party was being led, childlike, in song by a musician who had scaled one side. The canyon’s perfect acoustics gently carried lyrics about hope up to a triangle of cobalt blue sky.

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The Incas shared in the belief that the Andes and its foothills were sacred, performing rituals on the lower steps and child sacrifices on the highest mountaintops. The mummified bodies of three Inca children discovered in 1999 lie in the fascinating MAAM museum back in Salta. These children had walked for miles along an old Inca road from Peru towards Argentina and Mount Llullaillaco, where they passed out after been drugged with maize alcohol. Their bodies were found at 6,715m, astonishingly well preserved by the cold, each sitting with matted hair, faces peaceful in slumber, frozen in time.

The bodies were found at 6,715m, astonishingly well preserved by the cold Photo: Getty

The girl was likely to have been a daughter of a local ruler who was “married” to a son of another chief to unite the tribes. The maiden was a 15-year-old virgin. They were thought to have been sent to the gods as messengers, to secure good harvests and favourable weather.

The relationship between the land, sun and sky here is the subject of many a folk song regaled in Salta’s live music pena bars and by gauchos in the countryside. It also inspires the artist James Turrell, a former exhibitor at the Guggenheim in New York, whose work I had come to see in a more unlikely location out in a remote, wind-chipped valley.

Road though the Quebrada de las Flechas in Salta province Photo: Alamy

After a night at Cafayate, a charming town that was to be my base for the next few days, we set off for Colome, a wine estate and art gallery owned by the Swiss collector Donald Hess.

The drive through arid country from Cafayate to Colome takes in part of another great drive, Route 40, the longest road in Argentina, linking Patagonia with the Bolivian border. It takes a couple of hours, allowing you plenty of time to appreciate pachamama’s handiwork before stepping into one of Turrell’s light installations.

The church in Molinos, a small town on the way to Colome Photo: Alamy

Turrell is an artist from Los Angeles and something of a curiosity. He has created modern art in inspirational locations around the world, none more interesting than his project to create a natural observatory in the cone of an extinct volcano in the Arizona desert.

Deep in the Roden Crater, near Flagstaff, Turrell has been building a dark sky observatory over nearly three decades that will allow the naked eye to pick out the constellations from the belly of the Earth, connecting the universe’s future with its early beginnings. But this remains unfinished.

To see his works in Colome, we loosely followed the Calchaqui river, a slim silver streak passing through land dotted with cactuses and the occasional emerald flash of irrigated plantations and carob trees. Green parrots flitted about, getting their salt and minerals from the clay, as the Zonda, a dry, warm wind, ran its fingers through the fluffy tops of bulrushes on the river bank.

In the Quebrada de las Flechas (Valley of Arrows), a little before we arrived at Colome, we watched condors cruising above the valley through windows formed by wind erosion in the rocks.

That morning the hills had appeared a dusky pink, yet on the return from Colome, the same pastel valleys burned a deep ochre, the afternoon sun altering the landscape and proving we shouldn’t take it – or the light through which we viewed it - for granted. One of the works Turrell created especially for Colome holds up a mirror to nature’s visual tricks. Unseen Blue, made in 2002, asks visitors simply to observe the sky’s changing colours in a white room lined with benches beneath an open ceiling.

The James Turrell Museuam at the Colome wine estate

When he heard how remote Colome was, Turrell apparently hesitated before coming to the conclusion that the location would intensify the experience of his art. “I suffered a lot making these pieces,” he said. “It’s probably a good thing that the viewers suffer too.”

The expansive, silent landscape of these northern foothills works well with the artificial spaces to deliver visitors into an unreal world. Sunlight is commandeered to distort the physical and make the familiar –the dimensions of a room – seem infinite and unrecognisable.

Wander into City of Arhirit (1976) and everything is red. The room’s angles are softened and after a minute or so slip away imperceptibly. Along a narrow black path, you enter a succession of rooms that overwhelm you one by one with pure colours – green, lilac and indigo blue. You are bathed in colour and it becomes all there is.

In Spread (2003), steps lead into a blue frame that feels cloud-like, like walking into heaven. Slant Range (1989), a tungsten, ultraviolet and daylight mix, was more disturbing. Sunlight entered from hidden slits, forming a bright canvas on one side of a room that drew us towards its relative safety from the dusk. In the gloom, other people had become fluid shapes, like ghosts or murmurs, suggestions of forms. On the far side, a large window appeared as a dark void, a terrifying portal of unfathomable depth.

Light is Turrell’s paint but it is the abundant, pale gold light which falls naturally on this region that makes it and the terroir so special. At Cafayate, where I was staying at around 1,683m above sea level, the change in temperature differs greatly between day and night. This means the vines here grow well in the day then are cold enough to recuperate speedily at night. The stony, dusty soil is also perfect for vine cultivation.

Malbec may have become one of Argentina’s most-loved exports but the torrontes produced here – a delicate, refreshing white with a floral aroma, similar to viognier – is Argentina’s only original wine. Behind heavy wooden doors in sleepy Cafayate town, wine producers allow you to tour the premises and sample their produce.

While rifling through the bright textiles and ponchos on the dust-laden tables of cooperatives in the main square, Andres told me that gauchos in this region are the most respected in all Argentina. Parades and rodeos happen in every town once a year, with Salta hosting the country’s biggest and most important. You can spot a gaucho from the north west as he will be wearing a bigger hat than those from the pampas around Buenos Aires, being in greater need of shade from the sun. He will also be wearing leather chaps to protect against thorny bushes.

Horseriding is an option at Grace hotel in Cafayate

Salta’s gauchos, Andres said, were originally nomads, moving about with the herds until estancias began to appear and they settled down. As a driver for tourists over long distances in this lonely part of the country, he could probably see the appeal. Land and tradition are still important to gauchos now. Though their lives have been modernised (“everyone has Wi-Fi”), their riches still reside in horses, saddlework and silver.

Back at the Grace hotel, a beautifully-located estate just outside Cafayate, I discovered that torrontes is best enjoyed looking over the vines with a plate of empanadas I had rolled myself in a class with the hotel chef.

The vineyards seemed to stretch all the way to the Andes foothills, which were again transforming under the shifting light. The valley was silent except for a tinkling from the vines being watered, each drop catching the light and making the rows sparkle as though they were laced with diamonds. I suspect the peace, sunshine and mountain air were doing me just as much good as the grapes.

Getting there

Abercrombie & Kent (01242 547 701; abercrombiekent.co.uk) runs a 12-day tour of Northern Argentina taking in Salta, Cafayate and Colome from £3,780 per person based on two people sharing. The price includes all touring with Abercrombie & Kent and international flights.

Where to stay

A comfortable, modern hotel surrounded by vineyards, with a spa and polo court. Activities include wine tours of Cafayate as well as riding lessons on Peruvian horses. Double rooms start at £216 a night.

Behind an unassuming doorway in the city centre, this quietly stylish hotel offers spacious rooms, with wrought-iron four-poster beds and heavy period furniture set on stone slabs. Its sister hotel in Buenos Aires is also recommended. Doubles from $115 a night.